Mr Cellophane
by Okapilover
Summary: To abandon your duties as a nation is an abomination and an act worthy of international shunning. However, if no one even knew you were gone, you wouldn't have to face the consequences, would you? That is, until a certain Prussian were to find you by accident.


Do you know the kind of days where everything is perfect? For instance, the weather isn't too hot or too cold, and there's no humidity so your hair isn't going to get frizzy. You wake up nice and rejuvenated, as the birds sing good morning to you as you pull the blinds from the window. Your papa calls you in the morning, not because he dialed the wrong number and wanted to call an annoying friend instead, but because he just wants to say _bonjour_. Your pet polar bear isn't gnawing at your feet to get you to feed him. There's extra maple syrup in the pantry. It's pretty perfect and you couldn't really ask for anything more. Got it in your head? Good.

Because today was not one of those days.

Canada woke up absolutely exhausted. He barely got a wink of sleep that night, no thanks to the pile of work his boss had given him at the last minute. And he had to be at a World Conference in an hour, which by itself is pretty tiring. The only thing he could be grateful for at the moment was the fact the Kumajiro had decided that getting the Canadian to wake up was an impossible task and decided sometime in the night to go hunting. It took all of his will power and then some to drag himself out of bed to make his way to the kitchen.

As was the usual, he started making his daily pancakes. Kumajiro was laying down on the floor next to the stove, eating some salmon while glancing judgmentally at Matthew. The Canadian only sighed deeply as he flipped a flapjack, ignoring the polar bear completely.

Lost in his own thought, he seemed to be operating on autopilot. It was very evident he knew what he was doing, since even though he was staring at nothing, his hands were making breakfast magic. Kumajiro stared at Canada, and with an indifferent tone, asked the question Canada dreaded.

"Who are you?" The polar bear asked with his head cocked to the head slightly.

Matthew didn't even spare him a glance before replying casually, "I'm Canada."

A sudden ringing came from the bedroom, which Canada identified as his phone. The familiar song brought a slight smile to the tired man.

"Don't wanna be an American idiot…" he sang softly to himself. He quickly declined the phone call. Dealing with Alfred at eight in the morning was not his cup of tea.

Wait.

Eight? In the morning? The realization slapped Matthew in the face. He quickly turned off the stove and grabbed the single, slightly burned pancake from the frying pan, burning his finger in the process. He shoved it in his mouth as he raced around the house, grabbing his clothes and sparing time to get a bandaid for his finger. He grabbed Kumajiro before racing out the door to start his car. He turned his key to the start the car, and as the car came to life, he took time to remind himself not to speed. He pulled on his seatbelt as he slowly pulled out of his driveway, sparing a wave to his sweet old neighbor as she was getting her mail. She didn't wave back as she thumbed through junk mail, not even noticing him. He sighed as stepped hard on the gas pedal.

"Ah, man, Kuma! Germany is going to have my head!" he sighed desperately as he banged his head on his steering wheel. He pulled back abruptly as his left hand found his head. He groaned as he felt the throbbing sensation.

Kumajiro stared at him before rolling his eyes at Matthew and shaking his head, "Stupid Canadia."

Obviously, no one had Canada's head, as no one even noticed him bust open the conference doors. No one noticed his defeated look as he realized there was no empty seat waiting for him. No one noticed as he glanced at his pet polar bear before he moved by the snack table to eat something else for breakfast. No one noticed poor Canada.

Until break that is. Because if you had wanted to get some of Japan's sushi, you would bump into a seemingly invisible wall before yelling at 'America' and forcing him aside. Canada looked down sadly as he made his way in front of England's food. Because no one in their right mind would want any of that. He caught himself staring at the gross mutation and couldn't help but wrinkle his face in disgust. However, a different nation saw this as admiration, and a squeal was heard as a hand grasped his shoulder tightly.

"Oh, Alfred!" he heard England say excitedly, "I knew you loved my food still, I just knew it!"

Canada managed a sheepish smile, "England, I'm Canada."

It was the same question he hated, "Who?"

Matthew fought off the urge to punch the British man in the face, "Canada. Matthew? Williams? Did you really forget me again?"

England's look of confusion didn't falter until another man jumped up behind him with a obnoxious, boisterous laugh. "Of course he forgot, he's a crotchety old man!" England seemed to forget that he was there (again) as he turned to yelled at the American who only laughed harder at the expressions the smaller man made.

Canada smiled a little as he watched them fight as they always did. His grin grew wider as he watched his Papa come up to them. He could always count on him to see him, even when everyone else forgot, like always.

France gave a little glare to England who replied with a sneer. He quirked an eyebrow before stating, "Don't forget, we're going out to dinner after the meeting. I'll see you two then alright? I was thinking a nice French restaurant would be suitable."

"Like hell we're going somewhere _French_," England said the last word as if it was some sort of disease, and I suppose, in his eyes, it was.

Canada stood shocked as he watched the three go back to their seats. He rarely felt like crying when someone didn't see him. He had grown too accustomed to it. But the same words echoed in his head.

You two...

"Papa," he barely whispered as Germany called the meeting to be back in session. Canada wiped his eyes before grabbing Kumajiro from where he sat underneath the snack table. And he hoped, prayed really, that someone noticed him storming out of the conference. Hoped someone noticed the tears flowing from his eyes. He even hoped someone notice him sitting on the pavement with his head in his hands. But above all, he hoped someone would care.


End file.
